


Hunger

by sock10



Series: Daemon AU [5]
Category: Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell (TV)
Genre: M/M, Mind Sex, Sex Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:20:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27001861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sock10/pseuds/sock10
Summary: Norrell took pity on him. It was rousing to have a magician of Strange's power pinned under him in the spell, unable to advance without him, under his power, subservient.
Relationships: Gilbert Norrell/Jonathan Strange
Series: Daemon AU [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1656037
Comments: 7
Kudos: 6





	Hunger

**Author's Note:**

> Another out of chronology segment from [this AU](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1656037). I took some liberties with describing how they work spells, with the parallels between music and magic.

Norrell had selected his copy of Napier from the library shelf, he had climbed the stairs with the book tucked securely under his arm. The candlelight wavered on the white wall, the stair creaked beneath his tread even as he tried to creep quietly. The illicitness of what he was about to do beat through him.

Strange answered the door in his shirt sleeves. It seemed to Norrell that he had been expecting his visit.

After the events of the previous night, and the whole day of waiting, Norrell felt the ripeness of the silence between them now, a strange energy almost of a wedding night.

They could take their time tonight, unlike that first frenzy.

They sat together at the small table in Strange's bedroom, Strange with his hand splayed on the open pages of the book.

"Forgive me," he murmured, glancing at Norrell from under his brows. "I'm rather slow these days."

"Take as much time as you like," Norrell said. 

His eyes lingered on the other man, as Strange bent his head and read.

Norrell had chosen the spell of mending because it had always thrilled him to see Strange perform it. 

They would work the spell together, in harmony. It was not a terribly complex piece. They would use it to repair a hairline crack in a wine glass.

It would be erotic to work through together -- they both knew this. The spell the night before might have been accidental. This time, they both knew what they were about to do.

They stood when Strange was ready.

As was always the case now, Strange looked to Norrell to guide them through the spell work, not trusting himself. 

Norrell lifted his hand and played the opening note of the spell. Nodding and opening his hand slightly, he invited Strange to join him.

Strange began. The opening notes of the spell thrummed between them. Then their magics were touching. Norrell's breath caught at touching the other magician so intimately. They touched and soon they were twined together like vines wrapping round each other with frightening hunger.

Without knowing how it happened, Norrell found they were pressed together, chest to chest. Strange's hand touched the side of Norrell's face.

They bumped into the dresser.

"Not so quickly," Norrell panted as he felt Strange's magic rear like a stamping horse. Strange nodded. He slowed his playing.

How thrilling it was to touch him as he played.

"Oh. Mr Strange." Norrell's eyes slid closed.

"Like that?"

"Yes." 

After a moment Strange groaned softly and rested their foreheads together. 

"The next...passage..." Norrell panted.

They played the passage together. Strange rubbed his stiff prick against Norrell. Norrell's mouth was smeared, his nose squashed against Strange's cheek as he breathed and felt everything, his eyes tightly closed as though he listened to a symphony.

On the table, the foot of the wineglass shuddered along the wood.

Norrell's hand groped Strange's chest, cupping the breast warm through his shirt, he felt the unmistakable masculinity of Strange's body. Their foreheads remained resting together. Norrell would not have them parted for anything. To touch and be touched this way, in the mind, in the midst of working magic. This was what the old masters had spoken of.

It was a sin, surely it was. To defile magic in this way, even if the spell they worked was such a trivial thing -- it was sinful to bend the act of magic to this --

"The bed," Norrell panted.

*

Strange lay back. Norrell knelt and lent over him. Strange looked up at him, he looked at Norrell's mouth. Strange's face was pleasingly open, wanting.

"Your shirt." Norrell could scarcely make himself say what he wanted.

Strange's expression remained distracted -- he was still engrossed in their magic -- but he pulled his shirt up, until he had exposed his torso. The spell hung wavering and Strange ran his hand restlessly up Norrell's arm, plainly wishing to continue the spell.

"Yes," Norrell said, but he would not allow the spell to continue yet. He touched his fingertips to the wiry dark hair on Strange's chest. He traced his fingers along a scar on Strange's ribs. "From the war?"

"Mr Norrell..." Strange was restless, needing to continue, and Norrell was conscious that Strange was the younger man, his need threatening his self control. The spell hung in suspense, they both had to sustain it at that trembling unresolved note until Norrell allowed them to advance.

Strange waited as Norrell stroked his body.

Strange shifting his head against the sheets.

"Touch me." 

"I am touching you."

Strange was unsmiling, his attention caught up in the spell.

Norrell took pity on him. It was rousing to have a magician of Strange's power pinned under him in the spell, unable to advance without him, under his power, subservient. 

"You wish to mend the glass?" Norrell said, watching Strange's face. "That is what you want?" He wondered at himself, for teasing Strange in this way.

Strange licked his lips. Nodded a quick jerk of his chin.

His penis was stiff in his breeches. Norrell had been sweeping looks at the bulge of it again and again.

"Follow me, then," Norrell said. He relaxed his grip, freeing them to proceed to the next passage of the spell.

Strange's magic moved obediently with Norrell's, following his every move smoothly, attendant, hyper-focused, as if they moved together through the sumptuous swelling turn and turn and turn of a waltz.

"Of course." Norrell squeezed his eyes shut, bending to press his forehead to Strange's. "Of course you would use a variation. You -- you stray from the text. How am I to resist you? When you -- when you provoke me in this way?"

Strange, panting, barely attending, their mouths brushing together. "Sorry?"

"You are too impetuous...and too free with your movement..." Norrell pressed a clumsy kiss to Strange's soft, panting mouth.

There was a dark glint in Strange's eye. "Then teach me. How it should be."

Strange, with masculine assurance, slid his hand round to grip Norrell's buttock firmly. Norrell's wig had slid off his head and Strange's right hand now gripped the nape of his neck, stroking his thumb through his bristle-short hair.

Strange could not maintain his facade as Norrell touched his mind in earnest. He turned his head, his face tight as if in pain, to be touched so at the height of the spell. They were revelling in touching one another, touching through their magic, as they never did before, as they always resisted before. 

Strange's legs were drawn up either side of Norrell as he rubbed his prick up against him.

"Is it too much?" Norrell said worriedly, watching him.

Strange shook his head, mute. His mouth was open breathing roughly.

"Is it good?" Norrell said, low, enraptured by Strange's response.

"Yes." Strange strained against him with base sexual need as Norrell touched him inwardly. 

It was obscene that Norrell touched him this way. It was wrong -- Norrell should not have instigated this.

Norrell kissed him again, inexpert, ardent. Strange's mouth was soft, his tongue tasting Norrell's lip dazedly. Norrell drew back in surprise. Then he sunk down again and invited it. 

The spell was at a tremulous pitch once more, Norrell's magic holding Strange's captive, squeezed and at a pitch.

Strange became distracted and upset with need, his lips red and wet, hot. He was flushed and enflamed in his fruitless attempts at resisting Norrell's hold over his magic inside the spell.

"You cannot..." He shifted helplessly under Norrell's body. "By God."

Norrell felt every buck and twist of Strange's magic. He felt it when Strange surrendered.

Strange lay panting.

"Mr Norrell -- " He began to touch himself through his breeches. "I need -- please -- I cannot --"

He pushed his hand inside the breeches.

"I do not give you leave," Norrell said, barely keeping his voice steady.

Strange drew his hand out again, instead fisted his hand in the fabric of his breeches helplessly, white-knuckled.

Norrell opened Strange's breeches with shaking fingers. He eased the placket open and Strange's penis twitched fat, painfully full, the handsome mushroom head halfway out of the foreskin, the slit glistening wet.

"That's it, Mr Strange. That is how I want you," Norrell breathed, looking at Strange in this state, while he held him trembling in the spell.

Norrell's eyes roved over him. The beauty and masculinity of his torso. The dark hair on his chest, dusting down his belly, the dark nest of pubic hair from which his cock rose, the lovely testes drawn up needy and taut.

"Only by my leave," Norrell said, mad with power.

Strange's dark eyes showed no resistance, he blinked dazed in the grip of the spell. "Yes." 

Norrell kissed his mouth again slowly, savouring. Strange gave into him, his mouth surrendering. Norrell had not kissed a man before him. He dared to slide his tongue inside. When their lips came apart, a strand of saliva connected their lower lips.

Strange struggled to hold the spell, on a knife's edge.

"Do not drop the spell."

"I cannot -- by God, I cannot --" 

"I would keep you in this way all night," Norrell said. As if it were so very easy for himself.

"No." Strange's lashes were wet. He swallowed thickly, his Adam's apple bobbing beautifully in his throat. His voice shook. "Please." He could barely speak. He so rarely did magic nowadays, keeping it locked away. Norrell could see all too clearly the effect of the magic on him.

Strange's cock twitched heavy. From the slit he was drooling with the need to spill his seed. His thighs were tensed and trembling.

"You are beautiful." Norrell touched his fingers to Strange's cock at last. He took it gently in his hand. "Oh, Mr Strange." He eased back the foreskin. "So very beautiful. Your magic...it is very beautiful."

He caressed him.

The last phrase of the spell unspooled, finally, finally, as Norrell allowed his artificial hold to loosen, and on the table behind them the wine glass chimed as if someone had tapped it with a knife. 

Strange gripped Norrell's arm, his eyes squeezing tight shut. Strange began to ejaculate, as the final notes of the spell knit together.

Norrell was pushed over the edge of his own crisis in the same instant, his hips jerked, even as his loose-curled fist continued to stroke Strange, his knuckles and fingers and palm slippery wet with the other man's seed. He braced himself up on his arm, so he could look down and watch his jogging hand, Strange's cock, a rope of seed spat from the slit, and another as he stroked him, Strange gasping shudderingly, blinking stunned and slow.

It was done. 

They lay panting, afterwards.

Strange turned slowly on his side and drunkenly put his forehead to Norrell's temple, as he still trembled with little shocks. They are both stunned by the strength of it. Their bodies and also their magic, coming off together in a spell.

When Norrell went to the table some time later, the chip in the rim of the hairline crack in the wine glass was gone. A spell that would ordinarily have taken one of them all of three seconds to complete, they had together lingered over for their own wanton pleasure.

They put themselves to rights. Sat either side of the bed with their backs to one another.

Norrell gathered up the Napier and gently closed the book.


End file.
